


Empires of My Mind

by karrenia_rune



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Big Bang Challenge, Character Death Fix, Gen, Minor Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-15
Updated: 2014-03-15
Packaged: 2018-01-14 12:28:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1266595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karrenia_rune/pseuds/karrenia_rune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Tasha Yar had been snatched out of the time-line where she 'died' in the episode 'Yesterday's Enterprise' by a dues ex machina time loop and survived to make life miserable for the Romulans? What effect will that have on her former crew-members and her 'daughter."?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Empires of My Mind

**Author's Note:**

> With much thanks to my beta reader Some Call Me Tim and to nicky gabriel both for running the challenge

Disclaimer: Star Trek: the Next Generation belongs to Paramount, UPN, etc. It is not mine. For the 2013-2014 Fixit it Multifandom Challenge.  
Notes: references events from the 2nd season episode "Yesterday's Enterprise". The alien creature where Tasha 'died' is Armus."

the mix I created when writing the story can be found here: I'm using spotify:

http://open.spotify.com/user/1234865710/playlist/2Dvdy6AQRTocjJzgAl1bET

"Empires of My Mind" by Karrenia

It burned, but with a cold fire instead of the painful hot and searing sensation which she had been expecting to experience. Even the cold fire hurt, in her bones and in her blood. 

Tasha Yar fought back against the sensation with everything that she had because she had had never been the shy or retiring type, never been a quitter, even when the chips were down. 

And while she would have never admitted to any of her friends aboard the Enterprise, on her home world her own childhood had been cut short, and violent. Giving up just was not in her nature, so she had fought back. 

Growing up on her home world had meant that if one wished to survive one had to grow up fast. It had meant learning the harsh undertones to life on a world that knew little of the comforts of most Federation worlds, or in some cases, even cared about such things.

Now this facet of her past had become nothing more than a fact in service record. When the opportunity had come to get out of Turkana IV she had immediately seized it with both hands and never looked back. 

Tasha Yar had given her heart, sweat and tears to her career and Starfleet and it had paid off in way that her younger self would never have been able to imagine. 

Then why has her subconscious been flooded with images; strong, vivid and often disturbing images of herself clad in the familiar mustard yellow uniform, facing off against what appears to be the equivalent of a Tar baby from hell? The crew that is being threatened in these nightmarish scenarios is one that she does not know, but they all seem vaguely familiar. 

The alien creature blocked the only path forward, however she knew without being able to explain why that she must get past it. She must come to the aid of her fellow crew members whose runabout has crashed just beyond where the creature prevented her from coming to the rescue.

Then the scene shifted once more, fluid and sudden in such a manner that dreams often had.  
Instead of the tall, muscular man with the coffee-brown beard who lay in the slippery coils of the alien creature; instead it is herself she saw lying in its powerful grip and desperately struggling to keep from being pulled under.

This strange sensation of being both in her body in the dream and a silent phantom observe is rather surreal at this point. The dream continued, and suddenly she felt like she were being smothered and burning up at the same time. The alien creature is speaking to her, taunting her, trying to convince her that is helpless to prevent it from killing her companions, her friends and crew-mates.

The fire in her belly, the sheer determination that has made such an effective security officer took over and she rushed forward heedless of the obstacles and the odds, drawing her phaser from its holster on her side and thumbed it on, full throttle. She watched with eager anticipation as the blazing current of magenta energy sizzled across the air and rammed into the alien creature that called itself Armus.  
Then, in the blink of an eye, the alien reached out and picked her up and then hurtled her away with all the contemptuous ease of bad-tempered child having a tantrum.  
Then, and only then, does the dream come to end, and as blackness overcomes and she knows no more.  
***

 

The pressure on her lungs, the weight that smothered her limbs, relented gradually, and now she can breathe easier. When she could see at last, she jerked bolt upright from her prone position on the bed, the sheets wadded up in a tight ball at her feet, her palms sweaty and her skin waxy pale from sweat and a near sleepless and restless night.

The dream, or rather nightmare has been visiting her subconscious rather frequently of late, and it must mean something, although she has never put much stock in dreams, or the significance. Still, it’s troubling that it’s been the same dream over and over and she does know what, but this fact is somehow key to getting rid of them altogether. 

Tasha realized that she could just schedule an appointment with the ship’s counselor. In fact, should Captain Garrett become aware that her senior security officer was suffering from nightmare Garrett would no doubt not only encourage such a course of action she might even order it. For now, Tasha wanted to deal with the problem on her own for a while longer.

However, for this isolated moment she can forget about the seemingly endless cycle of attack and counter attack that has surrounded them for much of their adult lives; and just be together. 

She ran her fingers through the tight dark curls of Richard Callisto’s hair, savoring both the texture of them underneath her fingers and musky scent of his hair and skin.  
Neither of them has spoken of where their relationship was going and they might never get a chance to given the fierce nature of the Klingon attacks, which had become more and more frequent of late. 

Tasha was not certain if what they have is simply a mutual attraction and admiration for one another, or simply something solid and reassuring to cling to in an uncertain present and ever more precarious future. It was something, at that moment, it was everything.

Richard murmured something half-hear in his sleep, his breathing soft and regular, with his head propped up by the pillows of the bed with his legs barely covered by the sheets. He wanted to savor the touch of the woman above him. He licked dry lips and shifted slightly, finding himself wondering if they might lay this way forever. It was a kind of hopeless romantic wish that he had only read about or enacted out in hol0-deck novels, but for the moment, it was a nice thought to savor.

She removed her hands from his hair and then rolled over latterly so that lay beside him on the bed, sighing. 

The unexpectedly passionate kiss in the turbo lift that had led to now, replaying over and over in her mind, she wondered if they might have more time, but somehow, without quite knowing how, that time was running out, not just for the two of them, but for her entire crew. 

She turned over and studied his face, the finely chiseled features framed by the dark brown curls, long lashes hanging over dark brown eyes that had held so much mischief, and so much determination along with an equal amount of energy and impatience “Richard,” she said.

“Mm,” he murmured his rich baritone voice foggy with sleep. “Do you ever wonder if there is something more beyond the fighting, a brighter future that we could see if we weren’t always fighting this damn war?”

His voice became firmer as he thought what she had asked him, and did not respond right away. “Yeah, I mean, yes, I do, but this war it’s often what I like to compare to an annealing forge fire, it can take us, rattle us, and then throw us, but we’re still here, still fighting, and as long as we have each other, we’ll be okay. 

“You really think so?” she asked.  
“I do, Tasha, hon, and even if not, I can tell you, honestly, it’s been a hell of a ride.”

“Do you really mean that?” she demanded, her fingers unconsciously curling into fists in the sheets.

He smiled, that winning devil-may-care, little boy smile that she had always found so irresistible. “I do, and because of what we have, if we have to go into another battle with the Klingons, there’s no one else I would rather have fighting at my side.”

“You know something Richard Callisto,” she scoffed, a wry smile curving her lips. “What with that glib tongue of yours, you do manage to say the right thing every once in a while.”

“Only every once in the while, I should think I had a better record than that,” he replied, sitting up and scooping her into his strong arms and kissing her, again and again, until she eventually locked her own arms around him; and they knelt locked together like that for a long time.  
**

 

Meanwhile on-board the Enterpise NCC-1701-D

The image of the approaching vessel ever larger on the view-screen, the faces and the background of the bridge lit up as it was by the strange luminescent fire of the emergency lighting. 

Commander Riker knew that he was not the only one who could feel the taut cord of energy that ran through each and every one who pored over their readings on their consoles. What had turned from a relatively routine survey of a gaseous temporal anomaly to something much more fraught with danger was something he still could not quite wrap his head around.

Lieutenant Worf’s guttural baritone voice rangs out and momentarily distracted Riker from his meandering thoughts, saying, and “Incoming hail.”

“On screen,“ ordered Captain Picard.

What greeted them was a ghost from the past; a distorted mirror-image of their own vessel, the Enterprise NCC-1701-C emerged out of the swirling murk, its silvery hull scarred with the half-repaired scars of battle.

After the initial shock had worn off that the idea of another reality could be contemplated in something resembling objective seriousness. Jean-Luc Picard did not know or care what that said about them, but he knew it would affect him later, when he had a chance to consider everything that Captain Garrett and her senior staff had had to say.

The Ready Room on board the ship was as crowded as Picard could ever recall seeing it, but given the seriousness of the discussion he could not afford to contemplate the oddness of the situation. “I'm not certain who should I should welcome back, Captain.”

“I understand, “ Captain Garrett replied, but time is of the essence, and w could use your help, Captain Garrett said, her face darkening with a series of changing expressions as if she were an actor coming onto a stage, rapidly changing masks from anger, fear, anticipation, never quite settling on any one in particular. 

Jean-Luc Picard for his part, nodded and reached down to smooth the bottom of his tailored uniform jacket in a swift economical movement, one which everyone who had ever served with him was very familiar with. “I quite comprehend that, Mister Garrett, and I am willing to commit the resources of my ship at your disposal, but I am still not quite certain what the nature of the threat is.”

“Then I’ll lay it out as simply as I am able,” Garrett replied, 

At her side her senior helmsman Richard Callisto, seated beside someone whose appearance had been no less sudden and surprising as that of their ship’s future counterpart, sat, her expressions as grim and determined as her captains. 

Next to her sat Lieutenant Commander Data and his own first officer, Commander William Riker, then Worf, Counselor Deanna Troi and, Beverly Crusher, and lastly, Geordi LaForge.

“The fact of the matter is, we’re at war with the Klingons and we’re losing.”

“How is that possible? Worf rumbled, the Khitomer Accords….” He trailed off, uncertain and feeling a bit out of his depth.

“Were never signed, at least as far as we’re concerned,” interrupted Callisto brusquely, “and as much as I hate to admit it, we’re at least as responsible for that as anyone else.”

“How do you mean?” asked Deanna Troi.

Tasha Yar spoke up, “It many have begun with a series of border skirmishes, but it escalated way beyond that since then, and it’s only getting worse.”

Garrett nodded, “Even I’m not certain how it will end, but all I know is that a contingent of Klingon battle cruisers and their commanders have developed a vendetta for myself and my Enterprise, and I fear our arrival here may have only endangered your crew as well, Picard.”  
**

**“  
“Enter” Picard said, almost automatically as the door chime to his ready room sounded. He glanced up when the person who had come to see him entered. His surprise at seeing the mistress of Ten-Forward was appreciable, but he immediately schooled his expressions and merely said, “To what do I owe this visit?” 

“Jean-Luc, I need to speak with you, and it’s a matter of urgency, it can’t be put off any longer.”

“Of course, Guinan,” Picard says, politely but with weariness written in every line of his face and long lean body, but still he manages to stand and gesture her over to a chair at his table where several Padds lay in neatly arranged piles. 

“Let me start by saying that tat what I am about to say will sound very strange,” she stated, taking a seat and folding her arms over the front of her long dress.

“Stranger than anything we’ve run into during this war?” he asked, resuming his seat as well.  
“Possibly, Jean-Luc, but strange is relative,” offers Guinan with a wry smile and a mischievous glint in her deep-set dark eyes that Jean-Luc find reassuringly familiar. “

“What I need to say, which I more than likely should have said sooner, is that the war, this ship, everything that you think you know is, in a word, Wrong.”

For his part, Jean-Luc Picard reacted to this statement, calmly, leaning forward in his chair and clasping his fingers together, willing to hear her out, because he had known Guinan long enough to take what she had to say seriously, “Wrong in what way?”

“Only that you and your crew should not be here, that this,” she waved at the windows, to the floor, “The reality as you know it, a possibility, a horrible and awful possibility of how things went wrong and the appearance of the  
Enterprise-D was the harbinger.”

“How could you possibly know all of this?” demands Picard is a low undertone.

“Only I can detect the changes in the time-line that the war with the Klingons, is wrong and that the other Enterprise has to return through the temporal rift and allow Garret and her crew to meet their intended fate.”

“But how?” Is there not any way we can prevent this from happening?” Jean-Luc arched his back, as if an invisible string had been had been yanked him up and back, almost tumbling him out of his chair. When he had sufficiently recovered he took a moment or two to breathe deeply and then adjust the fit of the hem of his uniform jacket, he calmly asked her, “How do we go about correcting the time-line?” 

Guinan sighed and then replied. “Trust me these are important questions however I do know that Lieutenant Tasha Yar will have a pivotal role to play in how future events will play out.”

“Guinan, for the sake of argument, let us say that you are correct, is there not anything else you can tell me?”

“No, no, I can’t,” she replied, “Other than that you will have to let one your crew take the steps that she must in order to see this through,” replied Guinan cryptically as another subtle gleam appeared in her eyes and a crooked smile appeared on her face. “Jean-Luc, you are just going to have to trust me on this one.”  
**

The aggressors appeared out the canopy of black velvet space, tearing apart the fabric as they emerged out of cloak, the fires of their engines leaving a trail like the tail of a comet in their wake. Three of them dipping and curving in an out of formation, staying just close to detect but out of weapons’ race. But everyone who stood or sat on the bridge could tell that ‘that’ would not last very long.

“Looks like the time for speculation has just been taken out of our hands, people, Battle stations!” Garrett ordered. “

Turning back to Picard, she said, in a much more conciliatory almost apologetic tone of voice, “I am sorry I got you into this, Jean-Luc, you should return to your own ship before things become too hairy here, and besides as I stated earlier, we could use the additional fire-power.”

“I wish it had not come to this, and there is nothing to apologize for, I must admit to feeling an odd sense of déjà vu, I wonder what would have happened, or if I would have done anything differently if our positions had been reversed.”

She laughed, a sound of mingled wry humor and tense anticipation, “You mean if you were the one caught in a temporal rift, instead of me and mine?”

“Something like that,” he replied as he exchanged a silent but significant glance with Riker, who returned the glance with a nod of his own.

“Good hunting, Captain” he said. 

“To you as well, Jean-Luc,” Garrett offered. Adding, “Here’s to trying, rhymes with dying,” as Picard and his senior officers departed the bridge and toward the turbo-lift and from there to transporter pad three. 

Only when she had received confirmation from the transporter chief that Picard and his crew were back on board their own vessel did Garrett give the command that sent all hands to battle-stations and to raise shields.

The battle is fierce and is joined almost immediately. The crew of both Enterprises are more familiar than the might have liked with the aggressive and almost causal disregard from either the safety of their crews or their vessels that the Klingons have often exhibited, it appears that Garrett and her crew, even with the additional firepower provided by Picard and his ship, cannot holdout for long. 

Picard had spent most of his adult live putting his faith in reason and logic to provide a basis of his understanding, but when Garrett was killed in action, his premonition of mounting disaster was borne out. He had never believed that it might come to this, but at times like these when all else was uncertain he had to believe in the chain of command, and the dedication and determination of the men and women who served to keep going, even when all hope seemed lost.

It was only much later when when he could no longer doubt the truth behind Guinan's words that he was prepared to send the Enterprise-C back through the rift..

Picard was in his ready room, going over yet another in a seemingly endless series of reports of casualties and repairs when his door chime sounded. Wearily but with confidence, he offered to the person who stood without to enter.

“Lieutenant Yar, please come in.”

“Captain, I’m sorry to bother you at this late hour, but it can’t wait any longer,” Tasha said as she came into the room.

“What is it?” 

“I know that what I’m about to ask you is both impossible and crazy, but I feel quite strongly that I have to do this, not just to honor Captain Garrett’s memory, but for me.”

“It’s difficult to explain,” she replied, clenching her fists, and then stuffing them into the pockets of her mustard yellow uniform. “It’s just that I’ve spoken to Guinan and told me that we, I, it was not very clear at all, but the gist of it is that we’re not supposed to be here. “

“I see Gunian got to you, too,” Picard remarked wryly. 

“You knew?” she exclaimed in surprise.

“Guian told me that I have a part to play in what’s to come, and she also told me that in another time line, the correct one, if that does not sound completely insane I died a senseless death. I want my death to mean something.”

“I understand, Tasha,” sighed Picard, rubbing his temples with the backs of his hands. 

“Guinan told me that you would have a part to play, and that I should trust you to do the right thing, but it’s too dangerous, I couldn’t ask that of any of my crew.”

“I have too! Don’t you see, I want to live and die a fighter, it’s what I’ve been all my life! Sorry, Sir, but you understand do you not what it means to me?”

“Yes, Lieutenant, I do. How do you want to play this?”

“Sir, Permission to return to the Enterprise-C and join their crew.”

Picard nodded, slowly, “Very well, but for all that’s good and decent, Please be careful.”

“I will; I promise,” she replied quietly.  
**  
The Enterprise-D held out just long enough to allow its predecessor to enter the temporal rift and history immediately resumes its normal course, a change that goes unnoticed by all, except Guinan.  
**  
Present Day Stardate 45020.4

Sela had long ago learned one of the most important lessons that a Romulan commander, even a young as yet untried one such as herself, knew. You schooled your body language, modulated your vocal expressions, and above all, never ever gave away more than you wanted either the omni-present Tal-Shiar minders or a potential enemy to learn about her. 

Aside from the practical complications of such a scenario, there was also a deep-rooted current than ran through her liker her blood ran through her veins that made it impossible for her to open up so easily. 

The fact that she was not fully Romulan, but a hybrid was not lost on her. Sela had been the product of a liaison of a former human Starfleet officer and a middle-ranking Romulan general. How it had come about exactly she did not know or particularly care to know, only that from a very young age it had made her a target of ridicule and distrust.

It was perhaps fortunate for her that the family that had taken her in, made her feel as if she had somewhere to belong; had shown her that this seemingly fatal flaw was not a flaw after all.  
It could be, in fact, turned to her advantage, give her the strength, skills, and abilities of both of her antecedents, and over time, Sela, had learned to do just that; testament to the fact that she was standing on the bridge of a Romulan Warbird today.

A woman wearing the silver and black symbol of the Tal-Shiar pendant on a silver chain around her neck stood a distance back half-hidden in the shadows cast by the overhead curving ceiling of the command deck the lids of her dark eyes seemingly permanently lidded at half-mast. 

However, it would be dangerously to make the assumption that she was either lazy, or naive; much to the contrary, but it had proven over the years to be a useful guise to adopt. 

At the moment, though, she realized that a lifetime’s habit of learned patience and discipline was to be undone by a mere slip of a girl thinking that she could play in the big leagues.  
As much as Shishal hated to admit i the girl showed potential and she was certainly as ruthless as they came and as ambitious, if her superiors in both the military and intelligence units wanted this girl to play a pivotal rule in the Romulan Star Empire’s ongoing efforts to destabilize their most dangerous enemies, such as the Klingons; then who was she to stand in their way?

Shishal approached Sela, signaling that she wished to speak privately in a place where they would not be overheard. Sela nodded, with the expected acquiesce and deference due to members of the Tal Shiar. 

“We need to speak of matters that do not concern your subordinates,” said the older woman in a gravelly voice that sounded harsher and more peremptory than perhaps it is intended to be, or it could be just another foil, a mannerism that agents are taught to adopt to confuse and intimidate.  
Whatever the case Sela knew better than to voice an objection to the summons, moving across the deck, eyes forward and shoulders back, and then the pair, adjoin to the a chamber just off the bridge and through a metal door that opens and closes with a pneumatic hiss.

“Let me be clear on this point, a certain amount of audacity is rare trait to find in a high-ranking Commander these days,” Shisal began, and then paused to hold up one hand in a gesture that plainly said the she will brook no complaint or outrage, and is determined to have her say. 

Sela narrowed her eyes and then replied as calmly as she possibly could. “My predecessor made that very clear to me when I was selected to serve aboard this vessel, for he often remarked on the almost anemic state of affairs that has, well, sapped the military might of our people.”

“This is not about our military status,” Shishal retorted.

“If you have reservations about our undertaking,” Sela began, her face still composed, but inwardly seething. 

Her volatile temper, which Sela, even to this day uncertain whether it’s a trait that she inherited from her father or her human mother, is something that she cannot deny, and it has often gotten her into trouble.  
The kind of trouble that has thus far amounted to shouting matches with other officers and subordinates. She has learned to control her temper somewhat and so is able to hold back the potential dangerous words that could undermine her current mission.

“Audacity and seeming recklessness, as I said, coupled with ruthless and precision planning, are well and good, but I have my doubts as to the selection of our allies. 

“Does it gall you to know that we working with these,” Shisal suddenly scrunched up her face, her lips thinning back into a thin line of distaste and crinkling her thin ridged nose as if she scented something foul in the air. “Klingon females.”

“The Duras sisters, you mean? You don’t have to like them; we just have to work with them.” 

“Yes, it’s a sound strategy, but, I do have reservations. As for the Klingons, can you be certain that they will follow the plan as we have laid it out to them?” 

“So far the plan is to undermine the Klingons by fostering political and social unrest, and by running supplies to them under heavy weapons and under cloak, with neither of the currently sides of the dispute on their home world being the wiser.” 

“I see, you have the sanction to go ahead with it, but do not make the mistake of underestimating either the Klingons or the Federation.

“The Federation, hah, they would not dare to cross the Neutral Zone, and even they did, we will be prepared for them,” Sela replied with brash confidence, and then inkling her head slightly, “Thank you for the confidence you have placed in me Agent Shisal and for the advice. I shall certainly take them into consideration. “ 

Sela turned on her heel and marched back onto the command deck.

Choosing not to immediately follow the Tal-Shiar agent allowed a thin smile to cross her lips, this one a fractionally more confident one.. “Ah, to be young and confident, but on such as these the future of the Romulan Star Empire rests.”  
**

 

Unknown Stardate, late evening, on the outskirts of the Romulan capital city

The cloud cover and the dry but intense heat that kept activity in and around the outpost on the outskirts of the capital city to a bare minimum were to her benefit just now.

Tasha Yar slunk into the outpost, clad in dark clothing, clinging to the shadows and the crevices afforded by the naturally occurring rock formation that forms the back of the structure, carefully choosing hand and footholds as she made her ascent. It would have been far simpler to choose a different approach, but this way with the Romulus moon waxing to a mere silver, the light shed by it won’t give away her presence.

Back in her shelter that she has created underneath one of the major outposts of the Romulan military, Tasha had taken months to accumulate enough supplies, weapons and info on troop movements, strengths and weakness to make her raids much more effective than she could when she had first begun this needling attacks, in a span that feels like a lifetime. 

However, in reality is probably no more than six months ago, the idea that she had remained at large and right underneath the nose of those who would happily see her either dead on in a Tal-Shiar cell being interrogated is not one that Tasha Yar cares to contemplate. 

Still there is something viscerally satisfying to know that she is still a thorn in their collective side, still alive and strong, and making trouble for the arrogant Romulan soldiers. It’s not that she has anything against Romulans, it’s that she is the only human on the planet, and a Starfleet officer, although, the memories of this are becoming hazier and hazier as time passes. 

In the beginning she had thought to gain access to a communication device and contact a Federation vessel, but the likelihood of a Federation vessel even picking up her distress signal, letting alone with a captain that would be willing to risk crossing the Neutral Zone to come to her rescue is a remote one.

Instead, not at all unfamiliar with the harsh realities of fending for herself, Tasha drew on her experiences as Starfleet security officer and a child who not only survived the harsh conditions of Turkana IV but managed to tell about it, were coming to the fore.

Even as she made her ascent Tasha could not help thinking, that maybe just maybe that she be rethinking her strategy. Reaching the summit, she pulled herself up and over, scanning the immediate area for either a guard detachment or security devices. Reassured on that score, she strode across the rocky plateau and towards a door that according to her stolen blueprints would be concealed by a clump of scraggly shrubbery.

Pulling out a long, serrated knife from its holder on her belt, Tasha began cutting away the shrubbery, quickly making short work of it, and then placed the knife back in her belt. 

Then, punching in the code that she had encrypted quickly opened the door and went inside.

A hand wrapped around her neck and pulled her out of the access tunnel that led into the complex.  
She whirled and drew her knife, in had just managed a slash at the hand’s owner, when another voice, “Take it easy, fire-brand, I’m not your enemy.”

“Rekall?” she said with suppressed anger and surprise.

“Yes, it’s me, and keep it down. I suppose I am already fated to be dragged away but the Tal=Shiar for even talking to you, but there it is. I hope I did not startle you too badly.”

Tasha Yar, once more reassured by the fact that she was not in immediate danger or that her sabotage mission had been compromised, turned and clasped the hand of her unlikely ally and friend that she had made on Romulus. 

Rekall was a middle-aged Romulan with the eyes of a scholar rather than a solider, but he had shown that he possessed a canny wit, and slow but patient ambition to rise higher in the multi-layered political climate of Romulus’ capital city; he also possessed a sense of humor that others of his race did not.

Why he had chosen to help her was a question that by now no longer ceased to hold much meaning for either of them, Rekall had once revealed that he had lost his wife and children to the demands of the Romulan military machine and when Tasha had begun her strike and retreat campaign. 

Rekall had taken an almost immediate liking to her; he had called her the daughter that he had never had. 

“Not that I’m not happy to see you, Rekall, but what the hell are you doing here!,”? Tasha demanded in a hushed undertone.

“I don’t think you should go through with this raid,” Rekall replied.

“Why is that?” Tasha demanded. “You’ve never come out into the field on your own. Maybe the reason you don’t want me to go forward with my plan is because of something you’ve done?”

“Tasha, you wound me,” said Rekall sadly. “And no, it’s not because of something I’ve done, or at least not recently, oh, if the authorities knew about this, this, all of this, of my part in it, they would have me skinned alive.”

“You old hypochondriac, I’m sure you’ll be fine. Tell me what’s really going on, because all kidding and hyperbole aside, you are really starting to worry me,” she replied.

“It’s because of a certain Romulan general,” he said, taking a deep breath. “I haven’t been able to ascertain much more than that but for some reason he’s looking for you.

“As I’m the only human female around, I guess that I’m finally getting to them.”

“Don’t joke about this, I’m serious, for some reason he’s sent out your description to the soldiers stationed at the weapons depots and R & D labs. “

“That’s not just setting out snares in order to catch small game, that’s hunting bear,” she said, worry tingeing her voice for once.

“I want you to be careful, my sources tell me that the this general, has a particular urgency when you are found and captured.”

“Whatever for?”

“He’ll turn you over to a Romulan praetorian officer says it will, Oh yes, fearful symmetry, or something along those lines." Also, went on to add that he could not wait to see the look on your face when you met her.”

“He must be insane?” Tasha exclaimed, Wait, did you say her?”

“Yes, I don’t understand either, but you best get out of here before it’s too late. Head back to your hideout and if I have any more information that will shed light on this, I’ll be sure to inform you as soon as possible. Be careful, Tasha. Your life is important to me.

“That Rekall, is perhaps the strangest and sweetest thing that you have ever said to me,” Tasha replied quietly, “You be careful, too. Promise me!”

“I will, I promise. Now, get going!” 

Tasha patted his arm and turned around to begin her cautious descent down the rocky face of the outpost once more. 

***  
Upon reaching the ground she had just managed to get about half a meter from the outpost when the landscape around her erupted in noise and heat and light, and a squadron of half a dozen armed Romulan soldiers fanned out to surround her. 

Tasha could not help but wonder if she had in fact become so over-confident to have tripped some kind of silent alarm, or if someone in Rekall’s underground network had given her away. Either way, she was too damned exhausted to dwell much on it. She was forcibly marched into a ground vehicle, her hands manacled behind her back and her weapons confiscated and then, her captors, studiously ignoring, drove for about half an hour to a barracks of the command staff within the capital city itself. There, they escorted at weapons point into the officers barracks and then into this bare cell. 

Tasha could not have said how long ago that was, but it was at least three or four days ago; days did have a way of slipping by one when one was hanging by the wrists from a bare cell wall.

“I remember you, but that’s impossible, there is no way I could know something like that, could I?” mused Sela.

 

Weary, battered and bruised, the Roumulan police officers had not been overly gentle when they had taken her captive, Tasha Yar raised her head and locked gazes with the young woman whose hair, instead of been tar-black was as blond as her own, but with the pointed ears and up-swept brows and cut in a bowl-shape. However, the same blue eyes stared back at her, the same chiseled features and high-cheekbones were set in an oval-shaped face. 

It was disconcerting at best, at worse Tasha had to wonder if the universe were playing some kind of tug-of-war game with, if so, they could get it over with; she was so damned tired of it.

Tasha could feel the other woman’s presence through the vibrations in the floor as the other hybrid Romulan woman paced back and forth in the Spartan cell. 

Tasha could smell her breath on the stale air and wondered if she still had the energy to kick her interrogator away, or spit or some make some other gesture of defiance. It would not be much of a gesture in her present state, but it was important to her that she do so even if no one else ever knew of it or was around to witness it. 

“Sorry, to have inconvenienced you,” Tasha managed to get out through gritted teeth and a dry mouth, the insides of which felt as if she be eating more than a few bag of cotton balls and rusty nails. She was hot and thirsty, and physically and emotionally exhausted, but she’d be damned before she begged anything of arrogant officer who had been interrogating her.

Sela leaned in and grasped Tasha’s chin in her two hands, demanding in a harsh whisper, “Who the hell are you?”

Releasing her hold on Tasha’s jaw Sela went over to a small table and fetched a pitcher of water and poured a small amount into a metal cup, and then returned to her appraise her prisoner, before doling as small amount of water into Tasha’s mouth. Tasha drank as much as she could get of it, knowing that it might very well be a long time before she received any more.

At that moment the pneumatic seal on the only door in he interrogation room slid open and an adjutant to the young Romulan commander entered, carrying what, from Tasha’s vantage point appeared to be the Romulan equivalent of a Starfleet Padd. 

“Report,” Sela commanded harshly.

The adjutant rattled off a long stream of Romulan, faster than Tasha could follow and, handed the document to his superior officer, who left immediately.

Sela removed the official looking seal on read the information enclosed therein. Whatever information it contained obviously took the younger woman aback, for she snapped the file shut with and hurtled it against the opposite wall. 

“I don’t know how it’s possible, and personally I do not really care.” Sela’s angry, barely controlled voice murmured into to her ear, leaning so close to were Tasha lay chained to the wall by durauim links that she did not even have to raise her head again in order to see the other woman.

Sela did not want to believe that this ‘human scrim’ bore such an uncanny likeness to the woman that she barely recalled as her mother, should turn up now, especially at such a crucial point in her military career. It was maddeningly inconvenient. It was impossible, it was infuriating, and above all it was a damn nuisance.

“Did you know? Is this some kind of sick joke?”

“I haven’t any what you’re talking about!” Tasha exclaimed.

“According to our best experts in exobiology and chemistry, you and are blood related, and if I am to believe the evidence of my own eyes, you, a human Star Fleet officer are in fact, my matriarch.”

“You’re what?” Tasha demanded.

“Humans,” Sela scoffed. “My mother,” she snorted. “I can scarcely credit it myself, but why else would you share my face?”

Tasha shook her head and sighed. “What now?”

“I have a brilliant idea, one that will serve as lesson for your precious Starfleet and one that will rid me of your intolerable presence at the same time. I shall offer your safe return to the Enterprise, and its meddling crew, but for a price.”

 

This was something that she had never dreamed might happen. It was too much to hope for, but at the same time, she could not help feeling the first faint stirrings that of how to work the altered circumstances to her advantage.

Tasha had to wonder if what her captor proposed was nothing less than a ploy, using her prisoner as a bargaining chip in some kind of twisted hostage negotiation. At the same time, it offered her a glimmer of hope that she might have a way out of her current predicament. 

 

Jean-Luc Picard never expected to put into the position of facing off against the commander of a Romulan war-bird at either side of the Neutral Zone, negotiating for the life of a former crew-mate who all had believed dead, but he did not have the luxury to contemplate the oddness of the situation. Not only that, taking a moment to glance around at the faces of his bridge crew, he could see for himself the effect that this was having on the others, shock, yes, surprise, but a gradual acceptance of the facts staring them in the face. 

Over the intership communicator, the Romulan commander said, “Captain Picard, I presume.” The smile that spread across her spare features was nothing less than the predatory smile. “I have information that will interest you immeasurably..“

“I very much doubt that,” replied Picard.

“Oh, it will be to your advantage to hear me out. You see, it has come to my attention that not only is it possible for Romulans and Terrans to intermingle, I am living proof of such a union.”

“What are you saying?” demanded Picard.

“And here’s the kicker my mother was a former member of your crew, which is why we’re here."

“I find that very difficult to believe,” he added.

“My mother was Tasha Yar,” Sela stated quietly but firmly.

The fact that Rommulan commander had announced herself as being the daughter of Tasha Yar, and that she had it on very good authority that she not only knew that the human female was not only alive but was willing to negotiate for her safe return had had been nothing less than astonishing.

“And I see that you don’t believe me, that you require proof, “ so saying Sela gestured to a subordinate standing just beyond the range of their ship’s view-screen, who returned a moment late with another figure in tow. 

“Living proof, if you will. However, whether or not she remains among the living is entirely up to you.”

“I demand to speak with her!”

“Of course you do,” Sela replied languidly “Her mother,” Sela purred, “Your former captain would like a few words with you.”

”Hello, Jean-Luc,” Tasha said, “It’s good to see you again.”

“Tasha,” Picard whispered in an undertone. “Can it really be?”

 

“It’s me. If you can get me out of here, please do so, and hurry, I don’t know how much longer she’ll keep me alive.”

“That’s enough!” exclaimed Sela harshly.

“What do you want”! Picard demanded of the Roumulan female.

“What do I want? That is a very good question. When I first became aware of my mother’s presence and temporarily detached state let us say I was very disconcerted. I found it infuriating and confusing and a distraction I could not afford in advancing my position among the Romulan military. That is until I hit upon the idea of using it as a means to gain concessions from the Federation; from you, Captain Picard.”

“Yes, we understand all too well what you’re up to, so I ask again, what do you want?”

“I want many things, but I’ve changed my mind, you can have her back, with the understanding that while I may be ruthless, I am not entirely without mercy. And I will leave this stand-off with the understanding that you owe me. I will call in that marker at some later date. That I promise you.”

“You’re insane,” muttered Commander Riker under his breath.

“Make it so,” Picard replied, his face schooled into a stoic mask. He didn’t like it, but there seemed to be little else he could do about it. “I will lower my shields and prepare to have Lieutenant Yar beamed over to my ship.”

“Yes, Yes, you will,” Sela murmured in reply, leaning down to whisper in her mother’s ear, “Goodbye, Mother, perhaps we will met again some time.” Then, she stood up and barked out orders to have Tasha removed from the bridge and placed on a transporter pad.  
**

Interlude

Tasha and Data sat together on the couch in her old living quarters, she nursing a mug of synthale, Data simply taking in the marvelous fortune that his old friend was still alive and well. 

If he had been human, or as human as the android aspired to become, he would have studied every feature of her face, her nose, her eyes, her mouth and her lips so he recapture it. As it was, Tasha Yar meant more to him than they could possibly have articulated. 

Data was suddenly reminded of an old Earth saying that his friend and crew-mate Geordi La Forge had once told him. “Sometimes we don’t realize something or someone’s true value until they’re long gone.”

“I never imagined that the powers that be were in the business of doling out second chances,” she remarked in almost a whisper.

Data, whose hearing was such that she could have heard hear from across the room, nodded. 

“You know, Data, I think off all my friends and crew mates, it was you that I missed the most.”

“Do you really mean that?” 

“Of course I do. Did you receive those holo-recordings I made for each of you?” Tasha sighed and leaned back into the cushions. “It seems a lifetime ago, maybe more than one, but all I could do then and now, despite the feeling that I was being pulled in several different directions at once, was to do whatever task was directly before me and keep moving forward.”

“And Data, I honestly don’t know how I feel about the knowledge that I have a daughter out there, a daughter that hates my guts. It’s not just that neither of us never knew that the other existed before now. It’s just, me, a mother. It was never part of the equation. Something that I never thought I would ever have.”

“I wish I could help you, Tasha, I really do. However, the only comparable relationship is the one I had with my daughter Lal.”

“Wait, you had a daughter?” exclaimed Tasha in surprise.

“Yes, I will have to tell you about her someday,” Data replied with a smile.

“There’s so much I missed while I was,” Tasha paused and heave a sigh, “I was going to say away, but somehow that does not quite sum the totality of the experience. “But Yes, I would like to hear all about Lal and everything else that I missed.”

**  
Conclusion

“I don’t understand,” she began and trailed off into angry confusion.

Gunian offered her a smile and elbowed over a glass of an amber liquid in one smooth motion before replying, “No, I suspect that you don’t, as that is to be expected.” She shrugged. “You asked earlier if there were simple answers to life’s mysteries, well I can tell you from experience that to the best of my knowledge there hardly are any.”

“For once, Guinan, I wish you would give me a straight answer to a direct question,” sighed Tasha resignedly.

“What, and break my almost perfect record? Never, by the way, do you think I need to practice more on my back hand?”

“Your what?”

“My tennis back hand, and to answer your earlier question, no easy answers, not for the most important questions anyway.”

“I’m going to bed, Guinan, and thanks.”

Gunian nodded and offered Tasha a reassuring grin. “Any time. I’m always here.”


End file.
